A Million Plus One
by Luna Lovegood5
Summary: He so wants her to be forever. Inspired by that lovely moment at the beginning of 2x12, Army of Ghosts.


**A Million Plus One**

Disclaimer: As ever, I own nothing. This is probably the last time I'll update before _Doomsday _airs, so I hope you all love the episode!

A/N: This is beta-read by and is for Ro, simply because she is brilliant and compliments me far too much. Oh, and because she came up with the title :)

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Once, he took her to a time before the human race existed, when the Earth was beautiful and unspoilt; prehistoric. The second she walked out of the TARDIS and her feet came into contact with the red, sandy earth, he knew she was as spellbound by it as he was.

Beauty was a strange thing. It could charm and ensnare, inspire everything from envy to poetry and often left people helpless in its wake. As Rose stood – transfixed – almost holding her breath in awe, he reflected that beauty was also incredibly, powerfully sad. Perhaps because it represented a wish, a hope that could never be achieved; or perhaps even because you know, standing there on the brink of the universe, that one day it will change. In a few million years, this exquisite land would be covered in concrete and the pterodactyl that was currently making Rose gape would be nowhere in sight. One day, that flower will die, and that star will burn up, and the beauty will leave.

He was scared because a million and one things could make _her_ leave.

Maybe she'd decide one day that she'd seen too much. They all did, eventually. Perhaps one day the _world _would decide that she'd seen too much and take her from it.

And so he asked. He couldn't help it, even though he knew it was a silly question and that she no more knew than he did when her time to go would come. _"How long will you stay with me?"_

So _many_ thoughts can run through a mind in a split-second pause before an answer. A small part of his brain, the part connected to his nose, mostly, concentrated on where he was. He smelt dust and ash and, inexplicably, _cleanliness_. He would have used his eyes, but they were too engaged in searching Rose for an answer. Or even his ears, but they were busy deciding whether they should occupy themselves by straining to hear a word through the silence or shutting off to avoid the pain an unwanted answer would surely bring.

Most of his thoughts, however, were woven inextricably around _her_.

She was a million in one, circumstantially, he told himself in that split-second moment. Requirements: London female, late teens to early twenties, badly dyed blonde hair, slightly chavish, never went to college. Well, he could probably have found a million of those – not that he _wanted a _million of them. But then add things like 'last job blew up', 'father dead' or 'reported missing for a year' and you begin to narrow it down. And when you ask for a girl who is all of that but also went back in time to see said father die…

Well, there was only one Rose Tyler. He was about to ask himself what was in a name but realised he was thinking in Shakespeare and swiftly stopped.

Looking at her turn her face towards him, tear her eyes away from the splendour in front of her and land them happily on him instead, he decided that her circumstances – the fact that she travelled with him, the fact that he chose her – were not what made her special. Oh no. He had nothing to do with that. She managed special quite on her own.

A million and one chances for a better life could have passed her by in those first nineteen years. Perhaps they wouldn't have taught her much. Perhaps withouthim, she would never have known she was brave and compassionate, forgiving and kind, that she loved adventure or was quick on her feet. Perhaps she would never have needed to. He didn't think it mattered. It was enough that those qualities were there.

She had paused; not because she was uncertain, but because she felt she had all the time in the world to say_ "Forever." _And he smiled like he believed her, because he wanted to so very, very much. Thoughts of death, pain, loss and grief were swept momentarily from his mind. It was easy to believe in forever when you were standing at the brink of creation, eternity at your feet. Far too easy.

But he knew there were a million and one things that could take her away from him. Separation was easy, too. What kind of end would come to Rose Tyler? Going home to her mother…realising she didn't want to do this anymore…not being able to cope with another regeneration…meeting some dashing alien on another planet and deciding to stay with him…? While wondering if her being 'too old to run down those corridors any more!' would ever be an excuse for departure, the utter certainty that if she stayed with him, she would not live long enough to get old surfaced. None of them ever did, not with him. _…Death?_

Though it was only ten metres behind them and there was no danger in sight, he took her hand and ran with her back to the TARDIS. One day, he knew: one day, there would come a time when he wouldn't have her hand to hold, and he heard her squeal as he tightened his grip over her – as if daring anyone to ever try and take her away. Fortune-teller he was not; he did not know when, or how, or even why she would disappear from his life, but he knew he would fight with everything he had to stop it ever happening. Somehow, he got the feeling that even if he held a million and one hands after hers, not one would ever be the same, would ever mould into his touch so well, would ever be quite enough.

He so wanted her to stay. It wasn't that he loved her or that he was lonely – he did, and he was; but it was so much more than that. He realised, looking at her over the console, that there were a million and one reasons he wanted her to be forever.

But nothing is forever.


End file.
